


The Thing That Misbehaved

by skies_of_blue



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-22
Updated: 2005-10-21
Packaged: 2018-10-27 17:34:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10813602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skies_of_blue/pseuds/skies_of_blue
Summary: Ron and Harry are straight. No matter what any thing might tell them otherwise.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

The first time it happened, it was a hot, sticky summer at The Burrow between sixth and seventh year.

 

Ron had waited impatiently for two weeks before an Order member escorted Harry to stay the remaining few days before classes began. It wasn’t pretty. Harry was a bit moody; it was becoming a habit for him to ball up all the Dursley-induced frustration he’d accumulated over the summer and then spew it all back out at the ones who cared for him. Ron was still wary on how to handle angry Harry, but he tried, and tried, and tried oh so very hard to ease through any crack in that wall. 

 

Hermione could only help through owl post because she wanted to stay with her parents until the last possible second. Understandable in these times, but not so helpful when one needed to get one’s best friend to pull his head out of his arse. His family didn’t seem to be much help either, with their stance of, ‘Harry should be allowed to hole up a bit, the poor dear.’

 

Enough. 

 

Ron took the steps two at a time, shoved the door open to his bedroom, and flopped heavily at the foot of the bed where Harry lay under the sheets, pouting or doing whatever it was that a dejected hero did. 

 

“Wanker,” Ron said roughly.

 

Harry peeked out from under the sheets, his hair a rumpled mess and his lips twisted in a frown. He was silent.

 

“Quit sulking and do something fun! We have two days left before we’ll have to deal with Hermione and her homework nagging. Let’s go, come on mate. Quidditch in the yard.” 

 

Harry’s eyes widened for a moment, and then he shook his head slowly before smiling and sliding out from under the sheets. 

 

And that’s when it happened.

 

The thing. 

 

Because when Harry rolled out of bed, out of his self-imposed exile, he gave Ron the most innocent and boyish grin. A smile that only Harry Potter could give, a mix of sheepishness, genuine happiness, and surprise that someone would actually waste their time to worry about him. 

 

Ron was quite astonished to feel the rush of heat at that smile, but it was easy to write off any emotions as relief. 

 

It was a bit more difficult to ignore the erection. 

 

 

A train ride, a Malfoy scuffle, and a Hermione lecture later, Ron faced Harry across a chessboard. It was the last day of their freedom from homework, and they spent it trading childish insults at each other over light and dark squares. Hermione glanced up occasionally from where she was curled on the sofa, rolling her eyes occasionally because they were such boys about things.

 

“Check,” Ron said, faking an exaggerated yawn as commentary on Harry’s skills. 

 

Harry kicked his ankle under the table and ordered his king over one square. 

 

Ron kicked back. “Oh, sure, that will help you. Check…again.”

 

Another square over for the king, and Harry raised an eyebrow in challenge. “It helps if that bishop you’re stuck with is on the opposite color!” Kick.

 

Kick. “Check. Or do you give up?”

 

Kick. “I never give up, not at anything I really want.”

 

Kick. “Check!”

 

Kick.

 

Kick. “Check!”

 

Kick, softer this time. Another uplifted brow.

 

Kick, softer still. A glance at Hermione. “Check.”

 

Kick. Actually, barely a kick, more like a slide of one foot against another. A faint curl of lips.

 

Slide. “Check.” Suddenly, the game under the table was more intriguing than the one above.

 

Slide. 

 

Slide. “Check. Give up yet?” Ron’s voice was a deep rumble in his chest. 

 

Slide. “What do you think?” Was Harry a tad breathless? Ron pondered this while Harry moved his king.

 

Slide. That thing, that feeling, the one that popped up a few days ago and caused a bit of tightness in his trousers at home, had returned.

 

With a vengeance.

 

“BOYS, would you call a draw already? Honestly!”

 

Two pairs of eyes widened and two legs jerked back. Neither boy stood up of course. That would make things too obvious and they both might have to acknowledge that the thing existed.

 

Ron found it easier to blame his erection on… let’s see… the excitement of the game. Yes, that’s it.

 

The one on top of the table of course. He certainly hadn’t just played footsie beneath the table.

 

By the way Harry seemred just a bit flushed, his lips just a bit more red, Ron thought it was pretty obvious that Harry must have enjoyed the game as well.

 

 

 

 

It happened eight more times in those first few weeks at school. Ron counted them in his mind as he hovered on his broom during quidditch practice. That weird thing, that feeling, would spring up at the most inopportune times, accompanied by a hardness that he had previously associated with curves. With girls. Not sweaty quidditch players who swooped around the pitch, all scarlet robes and green eyes and dark hair. 

 

Ron tried to reason this out as he slowly circled the goal hoops.

 

He knew the… thing… wasn’t exclusive to freckled, red-headed boys, because he’d seen the glaze on Harry’s eyes a few times and had once even brushed up against a hard bulge in Harry’s pajama bottoms.

 

On accident, of course. 

 

But what if Harry really wasn’t feeling this way because of the same thing? Harry was a sponge for affection. He might be the type to hump anyone who showed an interest in him, gender be damned. An image of Harry rutting up against Colin appeared out of no where. It startled him so much that he nearly fell off the broom. 

 

Ginny paused in her quaffle drills to drift over to her brother, complete missing the reason for his slip. “Ron, see what happens when you gorge on sugar before practice? You tire out too easily!”

 

Ron glared at her and leaned into his broom to make tighter circles around the goals before heading towards the ground where the team was gathering. He focused on looking forward to a teenage boy’s ideal evening routine: a bit of sport, bit of a shower and maybe a quick wank, a huge dinner and dessert, and perhaps another really good wank in bed after the lamps were dimmed. Of course, previously, wank fodder would present itself in the form of Hermione’s shirt riding up or Lavender bending to pick something up while in her skirt.

 

Not this year.

 

This year, the path to pleasure was wet hair plastered to a scarred forehead, a pale curve of neck, skinny forearms just starting to pack on a bit of muscle…

 

“Thinking about dessert tonight or something?” Harry asked, interrupting Ron’s stream of lascivious thoughts. Harry grinned brightly, his quidditch robes damp and clinging to his shoulders. “You’re nearly drooling!”

 

He released the snitch that was balled up in his fist and bounded off towards the locker rooms like a terrier. As the golden ball fluttered inches from his nose, Ron wondered what other activities would make Harry that excited.

 

He was going to need that wank later. 

 

 

Two months into the semester, Ron realized that his dream schedule would need altering to include loads of studying. Of course, studying with Harry, sleeping near Harry, going to class with Harry, eating with Harry, and spending free time with Harry all lead Ron to one conclusion. 

 

The thing was not going away. In fact, the thing was getting worse than the other thing he had for Hermione a while ago, if he took the fantasies, messy dreams, and ridiculous looks as evidence.

 

Harry was far from immune. It seemed that every time Ron was near Harry, they would find some excuse to touch by a graze of a hand or knees knocking together beneath the study tables. At one point, they were even in a wrestling match over a chocolate frog. 

 

 

That had happened this morning, and Ron was quite sure that Harry had the lovely surprise of feeling Ron’s very stiff cock against his thigh through their trousers. Ron had certainly felt Harry’s against his stomach during the scuffle. 

 

This was not on. Lusting after his best male friend was just not acceptable. This thing was getting out of hand, because Ron liked girls, Harry liked girls, and there was no room for a weird thing between the two of them. That evening at their study table, Ron and Harry sat on opposite sides of Hermione to prove this very point.

 

Hermione took one look at their behavior, sighed, and asked, “What are you two fighting over now?”

 

“We’re not fighting!” Harry and Ron answered at the same time. They gave each other an odd look.

 

Hermione returned her attention back to her parchment, her thick curls tumbling to hide her face again. “As long as you both get over it by the first Hogsmede weekend,” she scolded from behind the curtain of hair.

 

A Hogsmede weekend! Wonderful! Ron cast about the room, looking for the perfect… Ah! He jumped to his feet, nearly knocking the chair over in his haste. Hermione snorted in disgust and righted the fallen furniture. Harry just watched with narrowed eyes. 

 

“Susan…Susan, hold on a minute!” Ron nearly tripped over his own feet as he approached her. She smiled hesitantly, shifting her books from one arm to the other. 

 

“Is there something you needed?”

 

Ron glanced back at the table where Hermione and Harry were both watching intently. He blushed at the attention and hunched over a bit towards the shorter girl. “If you’re not busy, would you go to Hogsmede with me this weekend?” He could virtually feel green eyes burning through his jumper. 

 

Susan, bless her Hufflepuff heart, blushed in turn, and smiled a bit wider. “Er…alright, Ron. That will be lovely!” She giggled a bit before waving and backing out though the library doors. 

 

HA! Ron just demonstrated that he could defeat the thing. He headed back towards the study table, making sure not to meet Harry’s gaze. Hermione managed to work through her shock to splutter out, “Well done, Ron!”

 

“Oh yes, quite the performance!” Harry added, overly enthusiastic. “Susan’s a very nice girl!” 

 

Girl.

 

 

A full month passed where Ron and Harry dutifully ignored the thing. They ignored accidental brushes and used Hermione as a buffer during class. Ron pretended to be infatuated with Susan and fawned upon her much more than necessary. Harry talked loudly about breasts to anyone that would listen. 

They liked girls.

 

So what if Ron occasionally caught Harry peeking at his backside. So what if Ron still had couldn’t help staring at the hollow of Harry’s throat. It wasn’t like he was fantasizing about running his tongue along that slope to taste the salt of Harry’s skin or anything. The important point was that the thing between them was wrestled under a cloth, tied up, and tossed into the air as high as it could go. 

 

Of course, what goes up…

 

 

Ron pulled off his quidditch gear after an entirely abysmal performance against Ravenclaw. He was sweaty, disgusting even, and he had looped around the pitch countless times until all the fans had trickled away. He had politely brushed off Susan’s sympathetic hug and now he was anticipating a post match meal, shower and wank, not necessarily in that order. 

 

One of the shower heads in the Gryffindor locker room communal showers was already running, but Ron paid no attention to the figure under the spray. Harry had his forehead against the tile, and Ron did not notice as the water rolled down the dip of his spine. 

 

They were just two blokes who liked girls, who happened to be on the house team, and who happened to occasionally share shower facilities. That’s all.

 

Of course there was that pesky thing in the past, but Ron had a girlfriend now, and Harry was always going on about heaving bosoms, right? So Ron stripped down, dumped his gear on the bench, and insinuated himself under his own shower. He only thought once, okay, twice… alright... four times that Harry was probably watching him. 

 

“So…awful game, yeah?” Ron commented as he stepped under the spray and allowed the heat to soothe his aches. He shut his eyes and leaned his head back into the hot water.

 

“Mmmhmm,” Harry hummed in reply. 

 

For a few minutes, the only sound was the patter of water droplets hitting flesh and tile. 

 

Ron finally cracked an eye wide enough to spot the soap. He wasn’t about to go on with his usual shower routine with Harry’s naked arse two nozzles down from him, but he certainly should wash up a bit. 

 

Just as his fingers brushed the slick surface of the soap bar, his eyes betrayed him and strayed over to Harry. 

 

Oh. Bloody. Hell.

 

Harry obviously had no qualms about touching himself while others were showering. He was turned so that his back was pressed against the tile, one arm flung over his head. His chin was tilted up into the spray, eyes squeezed tightly shut, and his other hand… oh my… his other hand was tracing circles through rivulets of water that trickled through the line of dark hair under his belly button. 

 

Ron found it difficult to breathe. The thing was back in force, a feeling that permeated every last freckle gracing his lanky frame. The soap slipped from his hand and he vaguely registered as it splashed at his feet.

 

“I wouldn’t pick that up if I were you,” Harry said, his voice gritty and not sounding at all like Harry-the-best-mate. His fingers trailed lower and lightly encircled his rapidly hardening cock.

 

Ron blinked the water droplets out of his eyes so that he could follow every movement of those fingers, so pale against the purplish-red flesh. His voice cracked when he said, “Why not?” 

 

He watched in mild shock as Harry opened his eyes and made sure Ron was watching when he tightened his grip and made a proper stroke. “Don’t know… what’s been ... down there!”

 

Ron’s traitorous fingers were already mirroring Harry’s earlier movements. He let his fingers slip a path along wiry, ginger hair, and all his breath left in a rush when he finally grasped his own aching length. “Dirt,” he managed to rasp out, his mouth filling with shower water.

 

Harry met his eyes and smiled just the slightest bit. “Sweat,” he grunted out.

 

Ron watched as Harry slid his thumb over the head of his cock, and Ron imitated the action. No longer able to verbalize anything coherent, he allowed himself to relax into the coiling pleasure.

 

An endless loop of boy pleasuring himself to the sight of another boy pleasuring himself. 

 

It was easy, so easy to quit fighting the thing in this temporary sanctuary of steam and water. Ron could almost imaging that this was a fantasy, a haze of disconnecting curves and lines of pale flesh performing for his own entertainment. It was real though, and those piercing green eyes and harsh gasps of Ron’s name made it that way. 

 

 

 

 

A holiday. A silent threat. A new term of classes. A break up. A surprising couple. 

Spring rolled into the hills surrounding Hogwarts, bringing winds hinted with warmth enough to move revising for N.E.W.T.S. outdoors. Ron sprawled across the tender grass and tried in vein to recall muggle techniques on making a toasted cheese sandwich. The new growth was still soft, not yet sharp enough to prick at his elbows. He let his cheek fall against it and inhaled the earthy scent.

 

“I love that smell, don’t you,” Neville piped up from where he leaned against the trunk of a tree. Hermione hummed an agreement and leaned back against his chest from her comfortable spot between his legs. 

 

“Ron’s inventing new ways to put off revising.” 

 

Ron just grunted a response into the grass, the blades tickling his nose.

 

“We don’t need to invent new ways to avoid homework, Hermione,” Harry said as he joined the group. “All the old ways work just as well.”

 

Ron rolled over onto his back as Harry kneeled on the grass. “How’d your tutoring go?” he asked as he dug a rock out from under his shoulder blade.

 

“Not bad, though there were a few that are still having trouble with some of the basics.” 

 

Hermione reluctantly began gathering her books. “Well, if you’re back, that means I need to check on those third years needing help in Charms.” She extended a hand towards Neville to pull him up, and he waved a goodbye towards Harry and Ron as they headed towards the lake.

 

“I don’t think I will ever get used to seeing that,” Ron said.

 

“That’s what I thought about…” Harry trailed off.

 

Ron looked over at his friend and idly watched as the wind rustled his messy locks. “About what?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

 

“You, Susan. That adventure.” Harry flopped back next to Ron. 

 

“Yeah, well that sodding mess is over and done now.” Ron allowed himself to become distracted by the tiny movements of the tree leaf buds as they swayed in the wind. 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

Silence again. It seemed to be the trend lately between Ron and Harry. The thing was an ever present kinetic energy between them now, pulling them together like a magnet just so they could bounce further apart. Sometimes it simmered under the surface and they were able to deny it, ignore the allure. Occasionally though, it was nearly palpable.

 

Occasions like now.

 

“Susan was good for a snog though,” Ron blurted.

 

Harry turned his head to look at him, curiosity and something else in his gaze. “Not wet?”

 

Ron smiled a bit nervously. Girl talk seemed necessary between two boys who liked girls, but Ron certainly didn’t like it very much. It made him feel guilty, though he refused to analyze the reasons why. 

 

“It was nice,” he finally said. “Soft and…,” he trailed when he wasn’t able to supply

another description. Like a girl, he wanted to say. 

 

“My first and last kiss real kiss was with Cho. It was in fifth year,’ Harry added unnecessarily. He rolled to his side, tilted his head, and looked down at Ron curiously. “Did you …er…tongue?”

 

“What?” Ron peeked at Harry through his flaming red bangs that had flopped across his face from the breeze. His heart began beating faster when Harry reddened under his gaze, so he brushed the offending hair out of his eyes. 

 

Harry licked his lips and swallowed visibly. “Didyoukisswithtongues?” he said as he leaned forwards a bit. 

 

“Yeah.” Ron apparently had forgotten how to breathe properly because he gasped on the vowels.

 

“How was it?” Harry whispered. 

 

It was obvious that the thing coalescing between them had no qualms regarding public displays. What else could explain why Harry rolled again and dropped an arm on either side of Ron’s head, his face hovering several inches above Ron’s and his bony elbows digging in the dirt. 

 

Ron noticed his distorted reflection in the lenses of Harry’s glasses. Fascinating.

 

What were they talking about?

 

He reached out and shoved his fingers into Harry’s dark hair. It took a million years. 

 

“Like this,” he finally rasped out before pulling Harry into an open mouthed kiss. No dallying about with lips here. This was a sudden, tooth clashing, hungry thing, with tongues stroking and sexy noises. 

 

For about 48 seconds.

Harry broke off. Wide eyed and sucking in air, he pushed up from the ground and scrambled to his feet. Ron shook himself out of dazed arousal and did the same.

 

“I like girls!” they said loudly at the same time.

 

Girls.

 

Harry looked like a trapped animal and Ron felt much the same. He had to find a girl. Now. Because kissing. Was. Done. With. Girls. Not your best mate with a prick. 

 

Ron usually suppressed the thing by snogging Susan’s breath away, but she had dumped him a few weeks ago. Apparently, twisting your fingers into a girl’s hair as she sucked you off and calling Harry’s name when you came was generally unacceptable. Ron denied this furiously.

 

Susan wasn’t an option now though, and the only thing that popped into his brain was Hermione. Harry must have had the same idea because he bolted down the hill towards her a full five seconds before Ron. Hermione was near the lake with Neville and several third year girls from mixed houses, poised to demonstrate a charm. She looked over when the younger girls began giggling and pointing. 

 

“Hermione, I need to kiss you!” Harry puffed out as he jogged closer.

 

“Oh, I don’t think so, mate,” Ron said before he lunged at Harry’s legs, tackling him to the ground. He scrambled over Harry’s prone form, grunting out, “I’m kissing her!”

 

They began wrestling, a full out scuffle with elbows and knees and fists everywhere. 

 

The third year girls looked shocked and began gossiping. Hermione just rolled her eyes and watched as her best friends rolled at her feet. 

 

One of the third years turned to Neville, who was standing silently at Hermione’s side.

“Aren’t you worried?” They both want to snog your girlfriend!”

 

The other girls tittered their consent, mumbling things about lecherous Gryffindor boys and their hormones.

 

Neville shook his head slowly, as if bored with the entire thing. “Why would I need to be worried? It’s not as if either one of them is strai…AAARGH!” Hermione stamped down on his toes. Hard.

 

Harry and Ron both froze mid-punch and rolled off each other, detangling their arms and legs. 

 

“Neither of us are what, Neville?” Ron said while attempting to catch his breath.

 

Neville looked as though he would rather be anywhere else but there. Hermione squeezed his hand in encouragement.

 

“Neither of you are strangers. Strangers. Yes. That’s what I meant. Not. Anything. Else.”

 

Harry and Ron had the grace to at least appear sorry for their behavior. Two boys dusted with mud and grass stains, fingermarks and tingling lips, ignoring that strange thing which was to blame for this mess.

 

Two boys who liked girls.


	2. Chapter 2

The following few weeks were interesting, to say the least. Gossip came and went, but juicy, Boy-Who-Lived gossip tended to echo through classrooms and lurk in dark corridors for ages. 

 

“Did you know they were fighting over her, right at her feet?”

 

“So Potty, I heard you and the Weasel were both bested by Widebottom! How pathetic!”

 

“She’s not that pretty. I don’t know why nearly every boy her year likes her.”

 

“I heard that Potter nearly used an unforgivable on Weasley to impress her.”

 

“Poor Neville! He doesn’t stand a chance against Harry!”

 

Never mind that the students in question were currently getting along just fine, though Ron and Harry were now keeping both Neville and Hermione as a buffer between them. Never mind that, since no one had seen Ron shoving his tongue down his best mate’s throat, he and Harry were free to pretend it hadn’t happened. The thing was just a figment of their imaginations, because everyone knew they liked Hermione and breasts and softness and perfumed kisses. 

 

Never mind that Ron had wanked to the thought of snogging Harry six times last week and twice on Wednesday, when Harry had licked the jam off his toast at breakfast right in front of Ron.

 

On purpose.

 

The gossip might have gone on indefinitely, to the end of the term, even, except that something unusual happened during the potions N.E.W.T. that made everyone forget about the sordid affairs of the Gryffindors. 

 

The entire castle shook on its foundation.

 

Harry didn’t even have a warning on what was about to happen. One minute, he was slicing ivy root into equal portions and the next, he was down on his knees retching, his scar glowing like a thin line of white hot fire.

 

Glass crashed to the floor everywhere around them, and Ron struggled to make his way to Harry’s side. “What the hell?” he said loudly over the rumbling and sounds of the examiner’s shouted instructions.

 

“Earthquake, I’d wager.” Hermione said as she reached Harry’s balled up form. “Are you okay Harry?” She rubbed circles on his back, the tightly controlled fright flashing in her eyes as she met Ron’s gaze. 

 

Harry sat up when the shaking halted, and Ron felt an awful ball of acid well up in his throat at how pale and ill his friend appeared. “He’s…here!” Harry gasped out between gasps for air. “Right…now!” 

 

Ron met Hermione’s eyes again over Harry’s form and upon silent agreement, they each hooked an arm around Harry and helped him from the floor. They walked him though the knots of panicking students, up the stairwell, and into the entrance hall. 

 

Dumbledore was calmly directing students to safety, as if a deranged psychopath attacking Hogwarts by using tectonic plate action was a normal part of the day. When Ron and Hermione reached him, Harry jerked out of their arms abruptly, and stood before the headmaster. 

 

“I’m ready.”

 

Two words. Two words and Ron suddenly felt like something wasn’t on.

 

“Is your mind focused Harry? We cannot do this if he senses any doubt.” Dumbledore seemed to be peering right into Harry’s brain. Ron really had the feeling that he was missing something here. Wait a tic…

 

“Harry, you know Hermione and I are willing to help, right?” Ron’s insides felt like he had just eaten a very spicy curry while suffering from stomach flu. 

 

“Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, I am going to need your assistance to keep the younger students together and to reassure them. Please do that for me, as I must fully concentrate on aiding Harry.”

 

Hermione appeared as though she wanted to blurt out fifty things, but she just nodded and threw herself at Harry. “Be careful!” she said, voice cracking as she squeezed him with all her strength.

 

Ron just stood dumb for a moment, processing what Dumbledore had just said.

 

Wait. What?

 

“He’s not going out there alone!” Ron barked when he found his voice again. “He needs our help! He needs us! He…” The castle jolted again and he broke off to regain his footing. 

 

“Ronald, I will be with him. I need you and Hermione to be strong for the younger students. You and the other seventh years.”

 

“NO!” Ron said. “I…he…we…” Three pairs of eyes looked at him sadly. Apparently, this was a previously discussed course of action. One that didn’t include Ron. It made his furious and ill simultaneously.

 

“Ron,” Harry said softly as he detangled himself from Hermione. “Promise me you’ll stay inside. I need to know that you’re safe in the castle.”

 

Ron took a half step towards him and shook his head. “Harry, I swore that I would stay by your side. I need to go with you!” Why couldn’t Harry see that? WHY?

 

“NO RON!” Harry shouted, sounding desperate. “Please! Just stay here. I can’t… watch you outside. I have to concentrate on this spell, and I can’t DO that if you are out there, possibly…” He paused in his ramble to sigh, and hesitantly rested a hand on Ron’s elbow. “Just promise me, please?” he added weakly.

 

Ron was close to a panic now, and he glanced over at Hermione for help. She was just smiling sadly and clutching her fingers together. He looked back and met Harry’s gaze. 

 

“Harry,” he said thickly, “Are you sure?” 

 

Harry nodded in a crisp, determined movement. Silent.

 

Ron reached out. Squeezed Harry’s shoulder. A small nod while biting into his lower lip.

 

Silent. 

 

Both quietly trying to read what that thing was in each other’s eyes. 

 

Harry finally puffed out a bit of air and turned sharply to look at Dumbledore. “Now,” was all he said, and the two wizards left through the great doors of the entrance hall. 

 

Without looking back.

 

 

Waiting.

 

Waiting.

 

Waiting.

 

Ron had his back against a decorative wood carving in the Great Hall, his sister snuggled into one arm and a random, teary, first year girl in the other. 

 

Hermione was in her element, directing students with the air of a future Headmistress. Neville really surprised him, and for the first time, Ron saw what Hermione probably found attractive in the round-faced teen. Neville had calmed a large group of frightened students by having them all write letters to family members. He looked amazingly confident and in charge, which made Ron feel even more useless.

 

Sitting against the wall, waiting.

 

Nearly every adult was absent, though Ron caught site of Flitch skulking on the far side of the Great Hall. Every once in a while, the entire castle would tremble. Once, the enchanted ceiling even disappeared for a few moments, and he was convinced that Hogwarts was about to collapse. 

 

He should have gone out there, at Harry’s side.

 

He would die for Harry.

 

Waiting.

 

Waiting.

 

Waiting.

 

Hours of thinking of nothing at all, interspersed with flashes of green eyes and messy hair, elbows and sheepish grins and steam-clouded showers. 

 

What if they had really given into this thing instead of… don’t think about that.

 

To touch Harry’s pale skin, feel him arching underneath his finger tips…don’t think about that.

 

To catch the water droplets rolling down Harry’s hipbone with his tongue… don’t think about that.

 

Harry, cold and lifeless, lying in a mud puddle among the torn up grass on Hogwart’s grounds… really, really, REALLY don’t think about that.

 

Think about waiting.

 

 

Ron must have fallen asleep against that wall, because someone was shaking him awake.

“Harry?” His voice was gravelly and his eyes were all gritty and only seeing brown. Oh. That was Hermione’s hair.

 

“It’s over, Ron,” she was whispering as she began nudging Ginny and the first year girl awake. “Dumbledore said that Harry isn’t hurt too badly, but needs to be checked out in the hospital wing.” 

 

Ron couldn’t form a sentence. Fortunately, a newly roused Ginny could. 

 

“What happened?” His sister asked as she pushed to her feet and stretched.

 

“I…I don’t know yet, but he and Dumbledore had been working on a certain spell and technique all year, so I am going to assume that it was successful.”

 

Ah. The secret no one bothered to tell him. 

 

Hermione must have noticed his frown, because she added, “Ginny, why don’t you walk this Ravenclaw girl to her common room? Thank you.”

 

Ginny looked apologetically at Ron and then left with the very fragile-looking girl.

 

“Imagine having to live through something like this at such a young age.” Hermione wondered aloud.

 

Ron just raised an eyebrow. 

 

She slid down the wall and sat next to Ron, grabbing for his wrist as if she knew he was planning to jump up and run.

 

“He forbid me to tell you about this, just so you know. He didn’t want you trying to talk him out of this spell or whatever it was that he needed to do, and he certainly didn’t want you near him when it was actually time to perform the spell.” 

 

“Why?” Why didn’t he share the spell? Why did he want Ron locked away in the castle? Interesting how a vague feeling of betrayal didn’t even seem to chase the thing away.

 

“He wasn’t planning on telling me either, but I figured it out earlier in the year. I don’t know why he bothers trying to keep things from me when he is so painfully obvious sometimes.”

 

“Oh?” 

 

“Either of you. I don’t know why you or Harry think that you can keep things from me. You’re both rather obvious. I’ll be here for you to talk to though, when you ever you decide to move past the ‘denial’ stage.”

 

“What are you on about?”

 

“Right. Be that obtuse. We should get the rest of these students back to their common rooms,” she said, waving a hand at the scores of students who were wandering about with a blank look to their eyes.

 

Ron knew what that blank look felt like inside.

 

 

When the curtains were pulled shut on his four-poster, they made an interesting pattern of shadows and curves. Ron pushed at one of the folds of fabric and watched as the moonlight slid into the dark creases. Sleeping was out of the question. 

 

In fact, sleep was the last thing on his mind; his thoughts were cluttered with ‘what ifs’ and ‘whys’ and ‘what were you thinkings”.

 

His curtains began moving, but he hadn’t batted at them this time.

 

“Ron? You awake?”

 

Ron sat up so quickly that he was momentarily dizzy. “Harry, mate, get in here!”

 

The curtains moved aside, and Harry crawled onto Ron’s bed. He looked completely exhausted. 

 

“Can I just…” Harry looked over at Ron’s pillow. He seemed vulnerable without the barrier of his glasses. 

 

No thinking it over at all. “Sure Harry. Are you alright?” Ron didn’t want to sound too fussy, but he needed to know something about what had happened.

 

Harry was quiet, but curled up at Ron’s side without effort. He fit easily, as if they had practiced this a hundred times before. Ron wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled him flush against his body. 

 

Perfectly acceptable in Ron’s mind, because two boys could do that sort of thing when one had just gone through something traumatic. It didn’t have to mean anything.

 

“He sacrificed himself for me,” Harry whispered, his lips moving against Ron’s neck.

 

“He? Who?” He squeezed Harry even tighter.

 

“Peter Pettigrew. Wormtail. Scabbers. Whatever he went by these days.”

 

Ron’s breath caught. “He…what?”

 

Harry took a moment to answer, probably dozing off from the comfort and safety provided by Ron’s nearness. “Thought he was going to kill Lupin….going on about strong silver hand….I was preparing my mind for the spell…suddenly, he pushed Lupin far away from him with that creepy hand.” He started getting very quiet near the end and Ron had to nudge him.

 

“Then what happened?” Ron breathed.

 

Harry moved his head back a bit and squinted at Ron. “Voldemort tried to curse me, and Wormtail jumped in way and shoved me. He died. My father’s friend, your pet rat, died for me Ron. How funny is that?” He giggled incredulously. It sounded a bit insane to Ron’s ears. 

 

“Shhhhh. Go to sleep Harry. We can talk about all this tomorrow, alright?” Ron wanted to hear more of what had happened outside while they all sat uselessly in the Great Hall, but Harry needed rest. 

 

Harry’s lips curled in a tiny, fatigued smile. “ ‘S finally o’er,” he slurred, his eyelids drooping. “Gla’you wern’ t there.” He leaned foreword and pressed his lips against Ron’s in a chaste but unmistakable kiss, then burrowed his face into Ron’s shoulder again.

 

He just held Harry, his heart swelling with things a bloke should never feel about other boys.

 

 

Ron awoke once again to someone shaking him out of sleep. For a second time in the last few days, he opened his eyes to see Hermione kneeling over him.

 

“Wha…what? What are you doing in here and where’s Harry?”

 

She backed off the bed. “I think I could hit you with a brick and you still wouldn’t wake up.”

 

Ron yanked the sheets up and clutched them to his chest. “Hermione! Turn around. And where’s Harry?” He smoothed his free hand down the sheet next to him as if Harry might materialize next to him by the action.

 

Hermione huffed, but turned and faced the other side of the room, where Seamus and Dean were packing. “Harry was in here most of the evening, but not too long ago, several trusted Order members arrived to accompany him to a safe place after he talked with Dumbledore.” 

 

Ron watched her curls bounce as she spoke, and he searched the floor for semi-clean trousers. “Where are they taking him?” he asked with a small note of frustration in his voice.

 

“I can’t be sure, but I thought that Tonks had mouthed ‘Lupin’ to me from across the room, which would make sense. Hogwarts and most of the wizarding world are going to be quite ridiculous the next few days.”

 

He paused in buttoning up his shirt. “What were you doing in here this early?”

 

“Did you believe that you were the only one who needed to be held last night? To be touched by someone so you felt alive and loved after who-knows-what happened last evening? I was here all night with Neville!” she announced boldly, with the faintest trace of pink on her cheeks. 

 

OH.

 

That meant she might have seen some things that needed clarifying. Obviously, having Harry snuggled in his arms last night wasn’t the same as Neville and Hermione sleeping together. Neville and Hermione were a boy and girl in love. He and Harry were…er…best mates! 

 

No matter what parts of they’re bodies might have been rubbing against each other. Of course he didn’t think of…things.

 

 

Ron rushed to correct her, lest she get any wrong ideas about things between him and Harry. “He was exhausted. He was nearly shaking when he showed up here! I wasn’t about to send him away when he was that tired!”

 

Hermione turned around and looked him directly in the eyes. “And that’s why Neville saw Harry nearly pitch a fit when Madame Pomfrey tried to keep him over night? Because he was exhausted? It had nothing to do with perhaps, how upset he might have been, thinking you were angry that he kept things from you?” 

 

Ron hopped up from the bed, arms folded across his chest like they could entrap the thing inside so it would never surface again.

 

“That isn’t it at all! Harry would never think…” He paused when someone began pounding on the door. 

 

“I’m coming in, so cover up anything you don’t want my impressionable mind to see!”

 

The door swung open to a chorus of, “Hey!” from Dean, Seamus, and Neville. Ginny entered and made herself comfortable in the middle of Ron’s bed. “I’m all packed, Ron. Are you?”

 

For the first time that morning, it occurred to him that his roommates were all packing their trunks. Hermione was hovering over his own trunk, muttering to herself about how haphazardly he had shoved things in throughout the year. 

 

“Are we being sent home early?”

 

Hermione looked up from where she was refolding Ron’s robes. “They’re going home. You and Ginny are staying with me for a few days.”

 

Ron sat back down on the edge of the bed and looked over at Ginny. “There’s nothing wrong at home, is there?” he asked a bit fearfully. It never had occurred to him that fighting might have gone on in other places as well.

 

Ginny shook her head. “Mum and a few others are treating injuries there because the Order doesn’t trust St. Mungo’s and everywhere else they met has been damaged.” 

 

Ron felt as though he were missing something again. How was it that Ginny and Hermione seemed to know everything about this? He felt like he was riding a threstral he couldn’t see again, clinging to something invisible for dear life just to keep up. Why?

 

“Oh, Ron,” Ginny remembered, interrupting his thoughts. “You should get downstairs before Harry has to leave. He told me to send you down if you were awake.”

 

Ah. That’s Why.

 

 

Ron was on his feet in an instant. He ignored Hermione’s questions about the location of his toothbrush and darted out the door and down the stairs.

 

One quick glance around the common room. No Harry. Ron must have missed him.

 

But no, there, near the window, there was Harry, sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees. His skin looked washed out from the angle of the morning sun. There was something ethereal about how he looked, glowing and graceful and… beautiful. Ron was reluctant to approach for reasons he didn’t want to think about. 

 

“Ron?”

 

“Yeah. Sorry. I. Didn’t want to bother you.”

 

Harry tilted his head so that the sunlight glared off his glasses. “You thundered down those steps like a hippogriff. It was hard not to notice.”

 

“So. You’re going somewhere?” Ron mentally slapped himself for sounding so stupid.

Why was this so weird? Why wouldn’t that damned thing go away so he could go back to feeling normal again when he was near Harry? Why the hell was the sight of Harry sitting in a window seat getting him hard anyways? 

 

Harry moved his head back into the shadow cast by the window frame, and Ron could see his eyes again. They were difficult to read for some reason. Something different was hidden in those eyes, and it was unnerving and intoxicating at the same time.

 

More silence. Then, “I’m going to Professor Lupin’s for a few days, though he wants me to call him Remus, which is difficult for me to do. Dumbledore wants me to be in a peaceful setting with no…distractions… to record my experience. Sort of like how he did when he dealt with Grindwald.”

 

Ron hesitantly sat near Harry on the window seat. He wasn’t quite sure what to say about all that, but he needed to get his mind off of the uncomfortable sensation in his trousers before things were out of his control.

 

“Ginny and I are staying at Hermione’s for a few days. Mum obviously felt like mothering all of wizard-kind.” 

 

“Yeah. You’re Mum’s great like that.”

 

“So.”

 

“So.”

 

Harry dropped his arms so he could sit properly, shifting a bit closer to Ron in the process so that their shoulders were brushing. Ron had a sudden flashback of Harry pressed against him in bed. He tried to think of something very unattractive. Like Snape’s nose hair.

 

“So, are you looking forwards to staying in a muggle house?”

 

“Not sure. They just sort of dropped it my lap this morning.”

 

“Oh. Right in your lap, yeah.” 

 

Ron watched in horror as Harry impulsively glanced down at said area on his body, where his arousal was quite obvious by now. He hopped to his feet and backed up when Harry gave him a knowing look.

 

“Ron, have you ever had an instinct or a feeling that just kept drawing you, no matter how hard you fought it?”

 

“Er…well, of course, especially when it came to those chocolates that Krum kept sending Hermione last year.” He forced a weak laugh. What was Harry doing? Ron was very afraid he knew where this might be going.

 

Harry relaxed into the window seat and tilted his head, watching Ron with a strange, calculating look that Ron had never seen in Harry’s eyes. “I had some …interesting… thoughts yesterday while I was preparing my mind to face Voldemort.”

 

“Yeah?” Ron couldn’t help taking a step towards Harry. It felt as though the thing had taken on a corporeal form and was now shoving Ron in the back.

 

“I was thinking that, if I survived this and succeeded at killing him, the entire wizarding world as I have come to know it would change. Maybe it was time to change other things as well. Give in to things.” Ron watched, completely stunned, as Harry reached out and grasped his hand. He was smiling up at Ron fondly, a hopeful expression gracing his face. 

 

OH MERLIN.

 

Lust.want.need.crave.hot.thirst.yearn.ache

 

A fire burned in Ron’s belly, ignited by sparks that were forming right where his hand touched Harry’s. 

 

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

 

“Harry…you like girls, remember? Breasts and…”

 

Harry shook his head slowly, the smile still soft on his lips. A chunk of his unruly hair flopped out of place, and Ron ached to brush it back. 

 

No he didn’t.

 

But he did, and why not, because Harry’s skin felt so good against his, and…NO…because he liked girls and Harry liked girls and oh my, Harry was rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand and…

 

Ron knew.

 

Ron just knew that Harry had stopped ignoring the thing, had succumbed to those steamy shower thoughts and forbidden feelings that were twisting in his gut and sensations of two boy’s tongues touching and …

 

was someone else speaking to them?

 

He slipped his hand from Harry’s grip and stumbled back a half meter, nearly crashing into Professor Lupin, who was watching them with a very bemused expression. Ron flushed when his former instructor arched an eyebrow at him.

 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but we need to leave now, Harry.” 

 

Harry, the sodding bastard, looked completely composed. Ron felt like he should say something eloquent. His best mate did just defeat the spawn of all evil, though Ron still wasn’t sure exactly how. Whatever he had done, though, had completely boggled up Harry’s mind, because now he was walking towards Ron with the very determined look of someone who knew what he wanted. 

 

“When will you be back?” Ron blurted. Er…perhaps a bit less needy? “I mean, will you be there for a long time? You weren’t planning on returning to the Dursleys, right?” Much better. If only that piercing, green gaze would stop unhinging him.

 

Harry moved close, violating boy-boy personal space. Ron was dead sure that Harry had given up on ignoring the thing. 

 

His nose nearly touching Ron’s, Harry said softly, “Think Ron. Think very hard about what you want, about what things you need. Don’t worry about what others might think. I should see you at The Burrow in a few days.” And with that, he turned and followed Lupin out of the Gryffindor common room.

 

Leaving Ron standing there, flabbergasted, the ghost of Harry’s breath still tingling on his lips.


End file.
